For some time now, I have been trying to find the words…the right words to describe my thoughts and feelings on the Israel-Palestine conflict. But I’ve realized that there are no right words…I’ve stopped hitting ‘delete’ and just write…
You see, you and I were born in the same year. I was born in Nigeria and you were born in Palestine. We both had our families around us, smiling and shedding tears of joy. When they first saw us, maybe they exclaimed, “what a beautiful girl”. Maybe you had a head full of hair. But I was bald.
You and I began to grow up. We began to explore our world with our hands, feet, nose and eyes. I’m pretty sure we both made a big fuss when our parents tried to make us eat vegetables. Maybe you liked to do your homework. I hated doing homework…especially Math homework. Both of our parents taught us to read the Quran and reminded us to complete our daily prayers.
And so the days went….you grew up in Gaza, Palestine. And me, well, my family moved to Canada back in the 90s.
We have never met. Our paths have never crossed. But when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder how you are doing. When I opened my eyes this morning under the comfort of my blanket, I couldn’t help but think if you were hearing missiles outside of your window. As my mom called me from the next room, I wondered if you had lost your family in this war. As I stepped outside into the sunshine and heard the birds sing, I wondered if you could only hear the sound of sirens and despair.
We are a world apart. My place, my home is safe. But your home is not safe. I know that you are struggling. I know that you are hurting. It may be of little solace but our thoughts and prayers are with you and the people of Palestine. Stay strong. Stay strong.
Email me when Kashfia Alam publishes or recommends stories